


Last Night

by callay



Category: American Animals (2018)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Frottage, M/M, Missing Scene, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-06 15:04:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15888462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callay/pseuds/callay
Summary: He thinks at first he was dreaming about Warren, Warren’s breath on his cheek, Warren’s arms pulling him close. And then, with a cool chill, he realizes that some of that wasn’t a dream but reality, fuzzy-edged in his memory, hot and sweaty and tasting of beer.Last night, he thinks,last night– but that’s as far as he gets, because Warren shifts against him, pushing closer, his knees fitting to Spencer’s, his mouth landing wet and open against the back of Spencer’s neck.





	Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write about the morning after New York, and this is what I ended up with.
> 
> Shout out to [th_esaurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/th_esaurus/), whose posts convinced me to watch the movie and get into Warren/Spencer. I, however, am solely responsible for all subsequent poor decisions.

Spencer wakes up to Warren’s breath on his neck. Slow, deep exhales right against his nape, impossible to ignore. Spencer’s tired and his head kind of hurts, and he’d like to pull away, but Warren’s arm is thrown over him, a solid weight draped across his side, holding him in place.

Also, Warren’s cock is against his ass.

Maybe that’s what woke him up, if he’s being honest. Spencer’s still got his t-shirt and boxers on, but he can feel Warren’s cock through the fabric, pressed up against him, hot and thick and hard.

In a not unrelated fact, Spencer’s also hard.

He thinks at first he was dreaming about Warren, Warren’s breath on his cheek, Warren’s arms pulling him close. And then, with a cool chill, he realizes that some of that wasn’t a dream but reality, fuzzy-edged in his memory, hot and sweaty and tasting of beer.

Last night, he thinks, _last night_ – but that’s as far as he gets, because Warren shifts against him, pushing closer, his knees fitting to Spencer’s, his mouth landing wet and open against the back of Spencer’s neck.

Spencer closes his eyes and swallows down a twist of heat. Maybe, he thinks desperately, he can fall back asleep. The light seeping through the hotel room’s curtains is gray and dim, like it’s still early, and they don’t have to meet the guy until the afternoon. He should go back to sleep and let future Spencer untangle this.

Warren snuffles against him, unconscious animal nuzzling, and rolls his hips to push his cock snug against Spencer’s ass. Almost a grind, enough to make Spencer’s breath catch, to make his cock give a little twitch in response.

Spencer presses his hand between his legs, his heart racing. He definitely can’t go back to sleep, but it’s dangerous to stay like this, too. Spencer keeps a careful catalog of what is and isn’t allowed between him and Warren, and this is wildly outside the lines.

Holding his breath, he squirms out from under Warren’s arm. Warren’s breath catches, then resumes its slow rhythm, and Spencer counts that as a victory as he stumbles to the bathroom.

He pees, bent awkwardly over the toilet because he’s still hard, then splashes water on his face. Drinks a few gulps of water from the sink and starts brushing his teeth.

The thing about last night is he doesn’t exactly remember it.

That’s probably related to how much he had to drink, and that, he does remember. Going into the bar half drunk just on the excitement of being here in New York, then getting significantly drunker in a very short time. Laughing, and trying to talk through the noise, and dancing.

He remembers wanting Warren. He always wants Warren, but he definitely wanted Warren last night, too. Warren was kissing someone and Spencer remembers a bright surge of jealousy, tempered with a kind of raw, helpless fondness. He remember looking down, smiling, trying very hard not to imagine it was him, Warren’s breath in a rush against his face, Warren’s lips against his, Warren’s tongue in his mouth.

The thought of Warren’s mouth on his is so vivid that Spencer’s mind catches on it. Maybe that wasn’t a fantasy – maybe it actually happened. There are enough fuzzy spots in his memory that he can’t be sure. He has a clear memory of his face close to Warren’s, the sudden stutter of their breath. Did they kiss after that? Or did Warren just knock his forehead against Spencer’s, and grin, and ruffle Spencer’s sweaty hair?

Spencer’s not even brushing his teeth anymore, just staring into space, drooling toothpaste into the sink as he tries to remember.

“Hey.”

Spencer starts. It’s Warren, squinting into the light in the bathroom, wearing nothing but boxers.

“H-hey,” sputters Spencer, and starts to brush his teeth again, his cheeks hot.

Warren elbows Spencer as he crosses behind him to the toilet. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” says Spencer thickly, then stops and spits into the sink. Rinses his mouth with a handful of water. “You?”

Warren looks over at Spencer and grins. “I might actually still be a little tipsy.”

“Yeah,” says Spencer, carefully not looking over at Warren. Carefully ignoring that he can tell from the corner of his eye that Warren’s still hard, based on the way he has to lean over the toilet, one hand planted on the tank as he tries to aim.

Spencer swallows hard and wipes his wet mouth on the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Well, I guess I’ll just – go back to sleep.”

“But last night was awesome, right?”

Spencer nods, offers a neutral, “Yeah.”

“Yeah!” Warren rinses his hands in the sink and runs them wet through his hair, smoothing it back. “That could be our lives, man. A different party every night.”

“I guess,” says Spencer, starting to turn towards the bathroom door, but Warren stops him.

“Hey, wait.”

“What?”

Warren is suddenly still. “Let me ask you something.”

Spencer doesn’t want to look directly at Warren, so he turns back to the bathroom counter, so he can look at Warren in the mirror. “Yeah?”

In the mirror, he can see a twitch at the corner of Warren’s jaw, a moment’s hesitation. Finally Warren says, “I guess I don’t quite remember everything from last night.”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“So I’m just wondering. Did we, you know. Did we fuck.”

Spencer thinks he means something else, like did they fuck something up, or did they fuck with someone, and he says, “What?”

“Did we fuck, Spencer. Or you know, other stuff.” Warren pushes a hand through his hair, his shoulders up. “I just don’t remember and I want to know what – if we’re –”

Spencer is frozen, staring down at the sink.

Did they –

He remembers Warren shirtless, bare and sweaty, Spencer’s hand slipping against his side. Warren’s breath hot in his ear. He remembers being on the bed, looking into Warren’s brown eyes and thinking – thinking –

“Spence?”

Spencer huffs out a breath. “What are you talking about, man?”

“So you don’t remember?”

“I don’t remember everything, but I don’t – I mean –”

The idea is crazy. Wouldn’t they remember if they’d done something? Wouldn’t they feel it, an echoing ache in their bodies, an internal shift between before and after?

Warren catches Spencer’s eyes in the mirror, and he says, low, “I mean, you’ve thought about it before, right?”

Spencer swallows thickly. “Uh. I guess, I mean, I might’ve thought about it.”

“So if we were super wasted...” Warren shrugs. Like it’s totally reasonable to hook up with your best friend while fucked up, and then talk about it later while you’re both hard in the hotel bathroom. “And just now, we were kind of... spooning.”

“I thought you were asleep,” mumbles Spencer.

“I was, man, but then I woke up and you were – I guess I got the impression that we might’ve done something.”

Spencer just shakes his head. “I don’t –”

“And last night. I remember thinking that I – that I _wanted_ to.”

In the echoing quiet of the bathroom, it has the force of a confession. Spencer, winded, looks down at the sink.

“Cut it out,” he mutters.

“I’m serious. I have no clue what actually happened.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Maybe it did happen. Maybe Spencer got the exact thing he’s been secretly aching for for years, and he doesn’t remember it.

Spencer shakes his head. “But if we… I mean… couldn’t we tell?”

“I dunno.”

Spencer’s cheeks are burning. “Like wouldn’t there be... uh, evidence?”

“What is this, CSI?” Warren laughs, pushes a hand through his hair. “Heck, maybe we swallowed the evidence.”

It’s a joke, but it hits Spencer like a blow, and Warren too, wide-eyed in the mirror.

“We’d remember,” says Spencer.

“Yeah.”

“So… so we didn’t.”

“I guess.”

“Okay,” says Spencer, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. “Okay, cool.”

This is the better option. This way, nothing has to change.

Except for the fact that they’ve both thought about it now. Like even if it didn’t happen, both of their minds imagining it could give it weight enough to distort reality.

The thought makes Spencer’s stomach twist nervously, but he doesn’t know what to do about it. He turns away, towards the door. “I guess I’ll just –”

“Spence,” says Warren.

“What?”

“So you’re not saying no.”

“Huh?”

“Just now, you didn’t say you wouldn’t have. Right? You would have. Hypothetically.”

“I mean… yeah,” mumbles Spencer, cheeks hot.

For a moment, Warren just stares at him, his eyes wide and dark. And then he lunges in suddenly and kisses him.

They’ve kissed before, closed-mouth smooches that Spencer makes himself pull away from, laughing. This is nothing like that. This is Warren pushing his tongue into Spencer’s mouth, like he’s trying to stake a claim there, sudden and messy.

Spencer, taken by surprise, gasps against Warren’s mouth. Shuts his eyes tight and tries to kiss back, his head spinning, his heart kicking and sputtering like a broken-down car.

Warren pushes forward, pressing Spencer back against the bathroom counter. His body is lean and hard against Spencer’s, naked, warm, his cock pushing against Spencer. Nothing between them but the thin fabric of their boxers.

The kiss lasts one long, desperate moment, and then they pull apart, breathing hard.

Is this when they laugh, and never talk about it again? But Warren’s not laughing, just staring down between their bodies at the shape of their cocks pushing together. He gives his hips a roll, pushing against Spencer, and Spencer gasps.

“Warren – what’re you –”

“Look, man, we don’t know what we did last night, right?” Warren tilts his head up, gives Spencer a grin. “So we’ve gotta do something now or we’ll never know if you’re really a virgin or not.”

Spencer’s cheeks go hot. “I’m not a virgin.”

“A virgin with guys.”

“I’m not.”

“Sure,” says Warren, planting his hands on Spencer’s hips, leaning in.

Spencer swallows hard. “That doesn’t matter, okay? We can just forget it.”

“I don’t wanna forget it.” Warren’s hands are under Spencer’s t-shirt now, bare palms on Spencer’s skin. “Fuck it, man, it’s not like anyone will know.”

And that’s true. Nobody even knows they’re here – they even checked in under fake names. This might be wildly outside of what they’re allowed to do, but isn’t that kind of the point of this whole thing?

Warren’s hands slide up Spencer’s sides until Spencer gasps, ticklish, and squirms back against the counter. “Spence. Come on.”

And Spencer gasps out a breath and closes his eyes. “Okay.”

Then they’re kissing again, their mouths meeting open and messy. Their bodies pushing together, their cocks rubbing through their boxers. When Spencer imagined this, he didn’t imagine it being this _easy_. They fit together the way they’ve always fit together, the way their lives have always had space for each other in them.

Warren pulls Spencer’s t-shirt off as they stumble out into the bedroom. He gives Spencer a push, and Spencer trips against the foot of the bed and falls onto his back. It pushes the breath out of him, so that when Warren reaches down and tugs off Spencer’s boxers, and Spencer’s cock slaps up against his stomach, all he can do is gasp.

“Fuck,” breathes Warren, low, stepping between Spencer’s knees. He shoves his boxers off, too, and then they’re both naked.

Spencer stares up at Warren, breathless. He’s seen Warren naked before, admired with studied disinterest the gangly, graceful shapes of him, but this is a whole other animal. Warren long-limbed and bare in the traces of light eking from the curtains, his lean chest and muscled stomach and his cock, long and hard and flushed, straining up towards his stomach.

Part of Spencer is still waiting for the moment when this will stop, when Warren will look at him and laugh, shaking his head. He can’t help wanting to get a good look at Warren while he can, and to memorize the way he feels right now, the ache of want he can feel through his whole body. He wants to be able to remember this moment once it’s all over.

But Warren doesn’t pause. He climbs onto the bed on top of Spencer, and Spencer tries to scoot up the bed to make room, and for a moment they’re both moving, elbows and knees, until finally Warren presses Spencer flat to the bed and kisses him.

Their bodies are lined up, all bare skin, chests and stomachs and cocks. Spencer gasps, his hips pushing up, and Warren licks messily into his mouth and rolls his hips so that their cocks slide together, rough hot friction.

It’s almost unbearable. The kiss is messy, the rhythm of their bodies pushing together uneven, and all Spencer can think is he wants this to go on forever, and also that it can’t, because he’s close already, his body buzzing, overwhelmed.

After a moment, Warren breaks the kiss and looks down at Spencer.

“So what’s the plan?”

“What?”

“What do you want to do?”

Spencer stares up at him. It’s hard to think with Warren’s body moving against his, the long line of Warren’s cock sliding next to his. “I – I don’t – You’re the plan guy.”

Warren grins at that. “Okay.” He pushes himself up to all fours. “Roll over.”

Heat surges through Spencer. “What –”

“Come on,” says Warren. His eyes are hot, his grin half-wild, and Spencer knows better than to argue.

He rolls over onto his belly, his heart racing, his breath catching in his throat.

He hears Warren spit into his hand.

“ _Warren_ – what’re you –”

“Relax,” says Warren. And his weight drops back on top of Spencer, his chest pressing to Spencer’s back, his cock pushing hot and slick against the crack of Spencer’s ass.

Spencer shudders. Warren’s already moving, grinding down against Spencer, his cock sliding against Spencer’s crack. He’s going hard enough to move them both on the bed, to push Spencer roughly against the blanket. “Fuck,” he breathes, drawing it out, his breath coming hot against Spencer’s cheek.

Spencer gasps under him, his hips instinctively pushing back. His cock is trapped between his stomach and the bed, hot and oversensitive against the rough blanket, and he can feel each of Warren’s thrusts through his whole body.

 _Did we fuck_ , Warren had asked.

It’s all Spencer can think about now. What it would feel like if Warren were actually inside him, the hot push of his cock sinking into Spencer, some slick internal friction that Spencer can barely imagine.

He’s sure now that they didn’t do it last night – he’d remember, god, he’d remember. But he wants to, now, with a desperate, gripping ache.

“Warren.”

“Yeah?” pants Warren, close to Spencer’s ear.

“You. You can.”

“What?”

“You know.”

“I can’t, Spence. You gotta have lube and stuff.”

“Oh.”

Warren tilts his hips to one side, reaches down and grabs Spencer’s ass, squeezing one cheek. “Don’t you think I would? Fuck, man.” He spreads Spencer’s cheeks, angles his hips so the head of his cock drags against Spencer’s hole, smearing slickness there. Spencer groans at the feeling, weird and messy and so hot he can’t breathe.

Warren shudders, leans his weight forward again so his cock lines up flush against Spencer’s crack, and grinds down against him. Frantic now, his hand coming up to tangle in Spencer’s hair, twisting it almost painfully as his body tenses.

Spencer whimpers, clutching at the blanket with both hands. There’s a damp spot under his open mouth and another under his cock, a slick patch that the head keeps sliding against. His skin feels hot and tingling, sensitive against the rough friction of the blanket, and he can’t help squirming under Warren, his hips pushing up into the rhythm of Warren’s thrusts.

“Fuck, fuck,” pants Warren, his voice tense. “Spencer –”

He ducks his head and presses close, opened-mouthed against the back of Spencer’s neck, and his rhythm is already falling apart, his hips giving helpless little jerks, his cock pulsing against Spencer and spilling in hot spurts up Spencer’s back.

Finally Warren’s hips still, and he gasps, “Jesus fuck,” and rolls onto his side next to Spencer.

Spencer keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, feeling the frantic buzz of his pulse, the strange warm slick of Warren’s come on his lower back. The trapped, desperate ache of his cock.

“Spence. You okay?”

“You’re gross,” manages Spencer.

“You know it,” pants Warren, reaching out and pushing at Spencer’s shoulder. Trying to get him to roll over.

Spencer reluctantly does, all the way onto his back, making a face at the feeling of his back against the blanket. Warren shuffles over and grins down at him, breathing hard.

He looks like he’s going to say something, but instead he just lets his eyes slide down to Spencer’s cock, flushed and trembling against his stomach, the tip shiny with precome.

“Oh god,” says Spencer, understanding, but Warren’s already moving down the bed. All the way down, until he’s kneeling between Spencer’s legs, and he can duck and take Spencer’s cock into his mouth.

He takes all of it at once, his mouth hot and wet, his lips tight around Spencer’s shaft. Spencer gasps, his hips pushing up instinctively into Warren’s mouth, and Warren sputters around him, wet and messy, but doesn’t pull back. Just starts sucking Spencer in a frantic, uneven rhythm, his head bobbing, his mouth sliding up and down.

Part of Spencer finds it hard to believe this is actually happening. That it’s really him lying here gasping, arching his back on the hotel bed. But there’s no denying the physical reality of it, the unmistakable messiness in the wet, rhythmic sound of Warren’s mouth, the spit running down Spencer’s cock, over his balls. The way Spencer’s groans catch in his throat.

This is definitely happening, and he’s definitely going to come in Warren’s mouth.

He’s so far gone at this point that just thinking it is enough to push him over the edge. He gasps out a short, helpless sound and then he’s coming, trembling all over, his cock jerking and spilling into the heat of Warren’s mouth.

For a long time, he can’t think of anything but the rush of pleasure, the feeling of Warren swallowing around him.

Finally Warren pulls off with a wet pop and crawls up the bed, grinning. He gets on top of Spencer and presses a hard, wet kiss to his mouth. Spencer leans up into the kiss, dazed, until he tastes the come slick on Warren’s tongue, and then he shudders and pulls away. “Ew, Warren.”

Warren laughs and tries to pin Spencer down and kiss him, but Spencer squirms out of the way, and eventually Warren has to give up and flop down onto the bed.

Spencer rolls towards him so they can look at each other. Their faces close, both flushed and breathing hard.

This, he remembers suddenly, is what happened last night.

The two of them face-to-face on the bed, beer on their breaths, their hair damp with sweat. Warren’s lips were still smeared a little red from that woman he had been kissing, and his eyes were a deep, warm brown.

Spencer thinks a lot about what his life would be like if it weren’t for Warren, and in that moment last night, that’s all he could think about: that he might have missed out on this wonderful night, on the thrill of their secret plan, on this exact moment, when he’s looking at Warren and wanting him so much it hurts.

For a moment, they were both very quiet. Everything behind them pulling them together, and everything yet to come stretching out before them, bright and limitless.

Then Warren reached up and curled his hand around Spencer’s head, fingers tangling in his hair, and leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. “All right, man, sleep tight. Big day tomorrow.”

And Spencer nodded, letting himself get so close to Warren they can feel each other’s breath, then pulling back. “Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [calllay](https://calllay.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


End file.
